Stone Barrington 06-11

said, trying to keep the anger from his voice. “There was no need to send a jet to Virginia and haul her down here; no need to pull the scabs off old wounds.”
    “I’m sorry,” Callie said sheepishly.
    “You should be. You shouldn’t interfere in other people’s lives, especially when you don’t have a clue what’s going on.”
    “Listen, Stone,” Callie said, now sounding angry herself. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t sleep casually with people, especially when there’s something else going on in their lives. If you and Arrington are in love with each other, I’d rather know it now, not later.”
    “I didn’t bring her down here,” Stone said, “ you did. I’d be grateful if you’d stop meddling in my life.” He set down his drink, turned and walked out of the room. He made his way past couples in the gardens, then to the yacht, where he made himself a large drink at the bar in the saloon and sat on the afterdeck, drinking it, watching the moonlight on the water, trying to banish the thought of both Arrington and Callie from his mind.
    Later, the music stopped and the sound of slamming car doors and diminishing voices told him the party was ending. He knew he couldn’t sleep for a while, so he made himself another drink.
    Then Juanito was at his elbow with a cordless phone. “Mr. Barrington, Mr. Thad is calling for you,” he said.
    Stone took the phone. “Hello?”
    “Stone, please come over to Liz’s house right away,” Shames said. “I’ve already called the police.”
    Stone started to ask why, but Shames had already hung up.

14
    S TONE DROVE QUICKLY, BUT NOT TOO QUICKLY, THROUGH the streets of Palm Beach. It was well after midnight, now, and traffic was light, but he did not wish to attract the attention of a traffic cop at this moment. He swung into West Indies Drive and, shortly, into the driveway of Liz’s house. One of Thad Shames’s Mercedes convertibles was parked outside and, beside it, what was obviously an unmarked police car. The front door of the house stood wide open.
    Stone walked quickly inside and looked around. No one was in sight. “Hello!” he called out.
    “In here,” came a man’s voice through the living room and to his left. Stone followed the sound and arrived in the study. Shames and Liz, who appeared to be unharmed, and a man in a police officer’s uniform with stars on the shoulders stood in the center of the room, which was a mess. All the pictures on the mantel had been swept onto the floor, a large mirror on one wall had been shattered and much of the furniture had been overturned, reducing some small porcelain figurines to shards.
    “What’s happened?” Stone asked.
    “We’re not sure,” Shames replied. “Stone, this is Chief Dan Griggs of the Palm Beach Police Department. Chief, this is my and Mrs. Harding’s attorney, Stone Barrington.”
    The chief offered his hand. “I thought I knew all the attorneys in town,” he said. “Good to meet you, Mr. Barrington.”
    Stone shook the man’s hand. “And you, Chief. I’m based in New York; that’s why we haven’t met. What’s happened here tonight?”
    Shames spoke up. “Liz and I arrived to find the front door open and the place a mess.”
    “The whole place? The living room looked all right.”
    “I’ve had a look around,” the chief said. “This is the only room that was disturbed.”
    “Anything missing?” Stone asked.
    Liz spoke up. “I can’t find anything gone, just broken.”
    “What about the door? Was it forced?”
    Griggs shook his head. “Either it wasn’t locked, or somebody had a key.”
    “I’m afraid it may not have been locked,” Liz said sheepishly. “I tend to forget. Anyway, Chief Griggs and his men take such good care of us all that it hardly seems necessary.”
    “I thank you, Mrs. Harding,” the chief said, obviously pleased, “but we’d really prefer you to lock your doors.”
    “I’ll make a point of it from now on.”
    “So this is vandalism?” Stone asked.
    “Looks that way to me,” Griggs replied. “Nothing taken, only this room messed up; nothing else to call it.”
    “Chief, have you had other incidents like this in town?”
    Griggs shook his head. “We might get some spray paint on a building or a bridge sometimes—teenagers, you know—but I can’t recall an incident of vandalism in a private home, unless it was connected to a burglary.”
    “No known perpetrators of this sort of thing around